


The Shape of Me

by Bofursunboundbraids



Series: These Precious Things [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Body Image, Kissing, Laketown, M/M, Nudity, Oral Sex, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:30:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofursunboundbraids/pseuds/Bofursunboundbraids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One evening in Laketown, Bilbo discovers that he's not the Hobbit he once was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shape of Me

And with great pomp and much circumstance, the Master of Laketown opened his door to the weary company. He fed them and wined them, offering toasts and boasts that the good, humble people of his city were ecstatic and elated that the King of Silver Fountains had returned to claim his birthright. Why, all that was required was theirs, one only need to ask!

Bilbo Baggins was happy to be indoors, dry, warm, and in possession of a full stomach. One of the last pieces of the puzzle that would see him almost like his old self would be a hot bath. A young servant girl pulled him away from the party, leading him by the hand to an upstairs bed chamber, well-furnished in velvets and brocades. It was lush if not a bit dusty. Through another door she brought him to a smaller room; the most prominent object being a white tub shaped like a slipper. Bilbo smiled, a chuckle bubbling forth.

"Who..."  
"The king wanted you to have this." the girl spoke softly.  
"King? Who...this was Thorin?"  
The girl bowed her head, "Yes sir, your Lord, sir."  
Bilbo couldn't help laughing. "He's not my lord," he shook his head but noticed confusion in the girl's eyes. "But he is my friend, and right now he's the best friend I've ever had. I can't forget to thank him for this. And thank you." Bilbo held out his hand to the girl, but she stood stock still, not understanding. She gestured toward the tub.

"If you allow, I will pour the water."

Bilbo noticed the buckets of steaming water sitting nearby. He walked over and dipped his fingers. "I never thought I would find hot water to be as delicious as a loaf right out of the oven." He began to pick up one of the buckets.

"No, sir, please."

Bilbo stopped.

"Please, sir, if you allow, get into the tub. And I will pour."

"What? You mean, I should undress?"

"Yes sir, if that is the custom of your country."

Bilbo nodded. "It is the custom, but not..." He stopped when he caught a look at the girl's face. She was young, pretty, but pale and thin. "What," he asked, his words coming slow and soft, "would you prefer?"

"I would prefer to do the King's bidding. Which is my Master's bidding."

Bilbo sighed. He wondered why he hadn't noticed how undernourished she looked. She couldn't have been any older than Bard's eldest girl. "Well," he took her hand, "the King's bidding has, of late, often been my own. I will take care of my own bath. We Bagginses are not above such things. Now, my bidding to you is this; go find the lad called Ori. You can't miss him, just look for a freckled face hidden behind a book. Have him draw your picture and _please_ eat something. There's enough food down there to feed thrice our number."  
She shook her head, "no...I can't...the master won't allow it."

"Then go to Thorin. Tell him his Burglar can't take pleasure where others go hungry."

The girl blushed bright red while placing numerous kisses on the Hobbit's hand. "Thank you sir, thank you. It was truly a great day that saw you to this town." She bowed before skipping to the door. "The old song spoke true! We will never know sorrow again." And with that she ran off.

Bilbo filled the tub, pouring in bucket after bucket, but the task did not require all of them. The proper amount for a man would drown a Hobbit. He then took off his clothes, poor ragged things that they were. His best walking jacket was now only good for the dust heap. He made sure his found ring was tucked away in his vest pocket and he tied the garment in a knot so his treasure would not fall out. When he was naked, he happened to catch a glimpse of himself in the tall cheval glass. He looked at the body staring back at him. What was once comfortably round- that well-cultivated stoutness that all Hobbits considered comely- now was leaner, almost thin. He could see the muscles in his legs and when he looked down he could see his toes. His jaw bone made a sharper line and his chin barely made one full. He sighed and felt sad, remembering Gandalf's words, that he would not come home the same as he'd left. He climbed into the tub, hoping that a good soak would help him remember who he was.

And Bilbo soaked. He let the warmth permeate his body and suddenly became aware of just how exhausted he was. In fear of falling asleep and drowning in mere inches of water, he got to work with soap and cloth, scrubbing everywhere he could reach, twice. After shaking the water from his hair, and draining it from his ears, he caught the sounds of someone moving about the bed chamber. He prayed that it was the girl, fed and flush from pleasant conversation, bringing him clean bed clothes and directions to his quarters for the evening. He got out of the tub and wrapped himself up in a towel the size of which could easily accomodate the Brothers 'Ri. Or Bombur at the very least.

With nothing but his face showing amongst the white fluffy folds, Bilbo opened the door. 

"That was a bath worthy of song. You must tell me your name, so that everyone will know of the maiden of the..." Bilbo froze.

"Your maiden is being immortalized at this very moment. I don't think Ori has ever had so eager a model." 

Thorin stood before the fireplace, the poker in his hand. Bilbo couldn't help but smile, grateful that the towel hid his reddening ears. "Did she get something to eat?"

"She did. The Master wasn't terribly keen, but I told him nothing brought my ire like the sight of a hungry child. I also asked that she attend to us for the length of our stay here, that Master Baggins finds her presence most agreeable. And," Thorin laid the poker against the hearth and moved towards Bilbo, "whatever pleases him, pleases me." He came to a stop, his bare toes a mere foot from the crumpled white hem of the towel. He crossed his arms and regarded the Hobbit with a twinkle in his eyes that Bilbo blamed on the fire's golden glow. "I want to know what would please _you_?"

"Bed." Bilbo answered.

Thorin nodded. "Would you object to sharing your bed?"

"No, of course not. Although, if I have a choice, Bombur snores something awful." 

Thorin laughed, "That he does. When I left, he had his hands busy trying to persuade his brother off of the table."

"Bofur's on the _table_? We are going to get kicked out, you know this don't you?"

"No we won't." Thorin slowly shook his head, beaming a self-satisfied grin at Bilbo. "The Master is as greedy as he is a fool. He will give us exactly what we want."

Bilbo prayed that Thorin was right about this. The Master was a fool, loathsome to be truly honest, but a warm bed was something Bilbo did not want to have to give up, even if he did have to share it. "I hope you're right because...(YAWN!)"

"...of snoring."

Bilbo closed his mouth and looked at Thorin. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I said, I haven't been accused of snoring, not for a century at the least."

Deep within the Hobbit, his stomach seemed to spontaneously grow wings. More than one pair, it felt like. Bilbo proudly maintained his composure. "You _sleep_?"

"Sometimes. Bilbo, I would share my bed with you, here, in this room."

Bilbo could feel his head nod, though he was not quite certain how one was supposed to make words and Thorin was moving closer, chunky fingers lifting his face so lips could meet. There had been kisses before this - clumsy, nervous - with elvish dungeon bars between them and the threat of discovery ever lurking but _this_! This was more potent than any wine in Thranduil's cellar. Bilbo's head swam when he felt the thick, velvet tongue part his lips and fill his mouth, playfully dancing with his own and coaxing it into Thorin's mouth and he could taste wine there. So consumed was he that he took no notice when the towel was pulled away and allowed to fall in a puddle at his feet. When the realization hit him, he sucked in a breath, his hands ineffective in their efforts to cover himself, and his cheeks burned. Thorin stepped back, confused.

"What is this? Have I erred?"

Bilbo shook his head emphatically. "No...NO! Quite the opposite, believe me! It's just...embarrassing is all... _stupid_." He looked at his furry toes. This was not how he imagined this would go!

"I don't understand. I have seen you unclothed before." Thorin wrapped a damp curl around his finger and pulled it away, leaving it to bounce against Bilbo's cheek. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Unless..." He had never considered that a Hobbit's upbringing would warn against such attachments, regardless of what the Hobbit in question felt deep down, leaving conflicting emotions.

"No, no...there's no _unless_...forgive me, but these words are going to sound ridiculous..."

"Tell me. Please."

Bilbo took a deep breath," When I was in the bathroom, I happened to see myself in the mirror..."

"And a pleasant sight it was." Thorin gave Bilbo one of those smiles that set his toes to curl. Bilbo shook his head.

"No...it's the...the shape of me," he ran his hands over his stomach, touched his face, "it's all wrong. I don't look like me."

"Who _do_ you look like?" Thorin was wondering if he should be concerned for the Hobbit's mental state.

"Well, not like the Hobbit who ran out of his front door to join some mad quest."

"It's not _mad_."

"No, it's absurd, but that's beside the point, Thorin, the point being that I once had a fine figure for a Hobbit."

" _You_ are being absurd and not making any sense. I see the finest figure." Thorin slowly let his eyes take Bilbo in, from his toes to the tips of his curls. "You are beautiful."

Bilbo stood there, his heart pounding in his chest, and he felt a monumental fool but he had to explain himself. "I don't look the way I _did_ , I don't look the way a Hobbit is _supposed_ to look. I'm too skinny by _far_. Everyone back home would think me ill or else out of my head. Imagine if you woke one morning with no beard, or your hair shorn, or the grit cleaned from beneath your nails."

Now it all made sense to Thorin. He kissed the Hobbit tenderly on the lips before standing back to give an appraising glance. "A jewel, when it's pulled from its stone bed is rough and needs to be worked by skilled hands, shaped, until it reaches its perfect form." He laid his hand on Bilbo's arm, feeling the new muscle under the fine skin. "This journey has re-shaped you, Bilbo Baggins. This," he squeezed the bicep gently, "is the arm that has stuck a sword in many foul beasts and has no time for tea parties."

"I rather prefer tea parties." Bilbo muttered under his breath.

Thorin shushed him softly. His fingers traced lightly over the warm skin, still damp from the bath water. He spread his hand out over Bilbo's breast, covering the pounding heart underneath. "That," he closed his eyes and felt that powerful organ pound a steady rhythm into his palm, " _that_ is the heart that stood between me and death."

Bilbo shuddered, "I don't like to think about that."

"You were so brave."

"I was terrified...but...I had to do it. All I knew was that you had to live. I have no other exlplanation."

Thorin bent down and placed a kiss over the Hobbit's heart. Then he went down to his knees, fingertips running over Bilbo's stomach. "Does the shape you find yourself in still trouble you?" 

"I'd be a fool if I said yes."

"You would." Calloused fingers gripped lean, hard-musceld thighs and Bilbo felt light-headed. "These are the result of carrying you far away from your home to help strangers re-claim their own."

Bilbo tangled his fingers in Thorin's hair. "You're not a stranger any more." came out as a whisper. 

Thorin slowly shook his head, "no, we're not strangers." He then grew a wicked grin and Bilbo's heart stopped. "I am curious about this condition, though." He wrapped his hand around the Hobbit's swollen cock. "It is not something I've ever seen, though I have seen you bare. What could've brought this on?"

"Thorin, you insuff... _ahhhhhh_!" And words were forgotten all together as the dwarf ran his thumb over the taut and moistened pink tip before taking the entire length in his mouth and sucking tightly as he came back up. Bilbo's head fell back and his knees wobbled. Thorin got to his feet and steadied his Hobbit.

Bilbo reached out, laying his hands on Thorin's chest. "Thorin, will you..."

"Yes?" 

Bilbo shook his head and tried to will some of the blood that had travelled south back up to his poor starved brain. "Will you...uhm...take me...to...to bed?" the last words were so soft Thorin thought he might have imagined them.

"To bed?"

Bilbo nodded.

Thorin smiled, so warm and glorious. "Yes." he said. And swooping Bilbo up in his arms, he carried him to the high four-poster bed.

The covers were already turned back.

**Author's Note:**

> One day at work I came across the Dr. Seuss book, "The Shape of Me and Other Stuff" and I thought it sounded like a good title for a fic. And this was the result. It is also my first Bagginshield, a pairing I've been struggling over for almost a year, so this is something of a personal victory for me.  
> I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Since posting this, it has become more than just a stand alone.


End file.
